


Howdy, Handsome Stranger

by twoseas



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Happy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mistaken Identity, POV Cobb Vanth, Post-Season/Series 02 Finale, Trial by Combat, being exhausted in a fight as a love language and lifestyle, in which Cobb and I are both stupid over Din Djarin, yeehaw in space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:15:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28908450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoseas/pseuds/twoseas
Summary: Mandalorians are spotted at a nearby abandoned mine and Cobb figures he ought to investigate.Featuring Cobb’s use of Mandalorian armor coming back to bite him, Mandalorian challenges, and a handsome stranger who might be a little more familiar than Cobb realizes.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth
Comments: 33
Kudos: 288





	Howdy, Handsome Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> I simply cannot be confronted by a silver fox space marshal and a hot single dad in armor and be expected to handle it well. 
> 
> Please, enjoy!

Jo skid to a stop, kicking up a small cloud of dust. “Marshal, the Tuskens say they’ve seen Mandalorians.”

“Our Mando?” Cobb’s heart beat faster in his chest. 

She shook her head and met his gaze, worry pouring off her in waves. “They said more than one and that they’re different. I’m not great at signing yet, but I think they meant painted? Must mean their armor.”

Cobb chewed on the inside of his cheek, mind racing. “They say where they spotted ‘em?”

“Near the old collapsed mine,” Jo answered at once. She looked from where they stood, to the cantina, all the way out to the front of the school where the kids played during their recess. “You don’t think this means trouble?”

Cobb smiled, a grim line. He started towards where he kept his racer. “Only one way to find out.”

“Marshal, you gotta wait,” Jo said like he was being ridiculous. “Get the others to back you up. Maybe even ask the Tuskens. They seemed a little on edge too. They might help.”

Cobb tsked at her, shooting down the idea. “Can’t do that. It would look a whole lot more like a threat than a request to parlay.”

“But if you go out on your own…” Jo trailed off and he knew what she was thinking about. He was thinking about it too. 

“We’re no match for them,” Cobb told her bluntly, checking his racer over. It was in as good a condition as he could hope. He also made sure he had extra rations and water just in case. “We saw what one Mando could do and that one was friendly.”

“All the more reason to wait and get as many together as we can,” Jo insisted. 

Cobb sighed. “I don’t think so. Best I can figure, it’s better to send out a single emissary. Show we don’t mean any harm, see if they mean us any. They might be willing to hear me out. He was.”

“And if they aren’t?” Jo asked, voice cracking. 

“If I’m not back by morning, evacuate the town.” 

“Marshal…”

“Jo, this ain’t a joke,” Cobb said seriously. He pat his blaster and raised his scarf up to cover his mouth and nose. “If I’m not back come morning, you evacuate the town. And tell the Tuskens why.”

“Alright, Marshal.” Her voice was sad and anxious, but her features were arranged in composed acceptance. She would do what was best for Mos Pelgo, same as Cobb. 

Lazily saluting her as he did his best to look capable and reassuring, Cobb sped off towards the old collapsed mine. 

\- - -

Pretty sure the Mandalorians wouldn’t appreciate any funny business, Cobb decided to go for the straightforward approach and just walk on in. 

Everyone knew about the abandoned mine. Everyone knew to steer clear of it. The shafts were badly damaged, collapsed from over mining and further destabilized by the krayt dragon’s movements - may it rest in pieces. But some of the tunnels were still intact, including the main tunnel’s entrance. 

Pulse skyrocketing, Cobb parked his racer, sent up a prayer to any who’d listen, and made for the entrance. 

He was met with the barrel of a blaster before he got ten paces from his ride. 

Hands rising up by his head, Cobb offered, “I mean no harm,” he swore. “And I’ve come all on my lonesome.”

“That makes one of us,” came a deep, unamused, and modulated voice. 

The Mandalorian the voice belonged to stepped out from the dark of the tunnel, armor painted a dark blue. He was bigger than Cobb’s Mando - not that the Mando was Cobb’s, of course - and had a hefty amount of weaponry strapped to his person. 

“I’ve just come to talk,” Cobb continued amicably even as his gut dropped down to the dust at his feet. “I’m Cobb Vanth, Marshal of Mos Pelgo. Caught word that some folks been seen around the old mine and I decided to check it out. That’s all.”

“He’s telling the truth,” came a voice from behind Cobb. Cobb stiffened and raised his hands a little higher. Another Mandalorian rounded his back, armor painted brown and grey and a sleek looking sniper rifle in her arms. “At least about being alone.”

“Just here to talk,” Cobb reiterated, smile faltering. 

“I know who this is,” a new voice sneered. Another Mandalorian, this one painted rust red and orange, came from behind a rock formation, visor and blaster trained on Cobb. “He’s an armor thief.”

The other two went still and Cobb couldn’t see their faces, but he could feel the anger aimed solely at him. Their weapons trained onto him with a smidge more intent than before. 

“I didn’t steal anything from anybody,” Cobb defended at once, sweat building at his temples, palms, and the small of his back. “I traded with some Jawas for the armor to protect my town. I didn’t mean any sort of disrespect to you or yours, I didn’t know. And I gave that armor to a Mandalorian so he could return it to where it belonged.”

The brown and grey sniper lowered her weapon. “He’s the one who wore Boba Fett’s armor.”

“And lived to see another binary sunrise,” the large dark blue guard muttered incredulously. He then stared at Cobb and Cobb thought the man was thinking it over. “The armor is back with its rightful wearer.”

“That doesn’t change the fact he wore that which was not his to wear,” the angry red and orange one spat. “We should shoot him where he stands for the insult.”

Cobb gulped.

“There’s no insult in ignorance,” the sniper argued, head tilted like a curious bird. “He didn’t steal the armor or strip it from one of us. He traded for it without knowing the consequences of his actions. And he came here alone to talk. I think we should let him.”

Angry Red turned his head and scoffed. 

“Take him to the Armorer,” the guard said with finality. “So she may decide the right course of action.”

The other two nodded and the sniper waved her rifle in indication. “Into the mine, Marshal, if you please.”

Not in any sort of place to argue, Cobb slowly lowered his arms and made to follow the guard. Angry Red and the sniper flanked him from behind. 

Looking up at the structural supports keeping the mountain above their heads and not on top of them, Cobb asked, “Y’all do know this place was abandoned for a reason, don’t you? Killed more people than I’ve got years and then some.”

“It’s safe enough for our purposes,” the sniper told him, tone of voice like a shrug. “And we’ve made some improvements.”

“Don’t converse with the armor thief,” Angry Red snapped.

“Do I take orders from you?” The sniper asked, a warning in her tone. 

“If you two collapse another tunnel with your fighting…” the guard cautioned.

Tension filled the claustrophobic space and Cobb wondered if he’d get killed in the crossfire of a Mando spat. 

Cobb didn’t bring up any more safety concerns. 

As they walked deeper into the mine, Cobb noticed that there were indeed some improvements to the integrity of the place. Collapsed sections were sealed off, stronger looking supports were put in. Plenty to make a precarious place safer. 

They took him down an offshoot and past more Mandalorians, helmets turning to watch them go. Muttering broke out in the wake of his appearance and he felt them gathering a tail, the other Mandalorians following a few paces back. 

Cobb’s insides flipped over and over. 

They hadn’t even disarmed him, his blaster kept faithfully at his side. Instead of comforting him, that they kept him armed felt like the scarier option. Almost like they didn’t care. Like his being armed didn’t make a damn difference to them. Like they knew he didn’t stand a chance. 

He could call is overconfidence, but he saw what one Mando could do. He didn’t doubt that their confidence was warranted. 

Childish laughter echoed down one of the tunnels and Cobb’s head shot up in shock. 

“Keep walking,” the sniper told him - she was nicer than Angry Red, but there was a protective growl in her voice that had Cobb blinking. 

So…that part of the stories was true then. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He saw how his Mando was with the little green guy. It was sweet and paternal and put a fluttering in Cobb’s belly. Not that this was the time to be thinking about Mando. Even if the T shaped visors and helmets and general Mandalorian stoicism had Cobb thinking of almost nothing else. Even the very real possibility that he might not be making it out of this mine alive barely put a stopper on his memories of the Mandalorian. 

They reached a place where the tunnel widened into something of a room and Cobb blinked away the spots caused by a blue white fire so bright he couldn’t look directly at it. Instead he looked around and felt his blood chill. There were all sorts of Mandalorians in the room and they were painted all sorts of colors and all their attention fixed onto Cobb and his guards, more tension swirling through the hot, dry air. 

Cobb frowned at the center of the room. A golden armored Mandalorian sat at a table with an unarmored man, a cloth wrapped bundle and a shining spear laid out on the table between them. Both turned their heads at Cobb’s arrival. While the golden armored Mandalorian merely stared with that unreadable helmet of hers, the unarmored man gawked openly at Cobb, eyes wide and lips parting. 

Cobb spared himself the time to wonder just how many people these Mandalorians were kidnapping.

“What is the meaning of this?” The golden armored Mandalorian inquired, accented voice clipped. She spoke like authority and Cobb knew at once that this was the Armorer.

“This is the armor thief,” Angry Red declared haughtily.

Some of the audience shifted and whispered at the pronouncement.

The unarmored man scowled over at Angry Red and Cobb appreciated the show of solidarity. It was rough being the only non Mandos in a nest full of agitated warriors. 

“He came alone to the entrance of the mine,” the guard clarified. “He says he has come to talk.”

“He shouldn’t be allowed,” someone from the back said. 

“Marshal Cobb Vanth’s only transgression was a lack of knowledge,” the Armorer said sternly. “A forgivable offense once he returned the armor to the tribe so that its rightful place could be discovered.”

“If we let him get away with it, many more will try! We need them to fear and respect our ways,” Angry Red argued. Some of the audience nodded their agreement. 

The unarmored man’s scowl grew deeper. 

The Armorer sighed. “We have more important matters at hand.”

She held her thick gloved hand out in indication of the unarmored man across from her. His scowl transformed into an apologetic grimace. 

Cobb took the man in and wondered what he could’ve done that was more important than armor theft to these folks.

Cobb wasn’t much for love at first sight (give him a day or two and it would be a different story, his Mando proved that), but he could admire a pretty face and this man had one. Not pretty as in delicate. No, there wasn’t much delicate about this man’s face at all. But pretty as in attractive. Nice to look at. Ruggedly handsome, maybe. The man wasn’t hurting in the looks department, was all Cobb meant. 

Cobb also fancied himself a decent judge of character and this man seemed a good sort. At least he seemed offended on Cobb’s behalf, which was much appreciated. 

Cobb couldn’t puzzle out what this sort of man was doing sitting before what felt like a Mandalorian tribunal. 

The continued debate over his fate forcibly knocked Cobb out of his musings. 

“He needs to be dealt with,” Angry Red said, stubborn as a grazing bantha. 

“Very well,” the Armorer agreed, something in her voice Cobb couldn’t quite identify. “Who believes the Marshal must be held accountable?”

About a third of the gathered Mandalorian’s raised their hands and made noises of assent. 

Cobb felt a mite queasy. 

“I see,” the Armorer hummed. “Death, however, is too steep a price and I will not harbor its consideration. Instead we must find a more suitable means to discern the correct consequence for his actions.”

The Armorer looked to her forge, to the bundle on the table, and finally to the unarmored man. She radiated serious thoughts, from the set of her helmet to the deliberate movements of her limbs. 

“Ah,” she said, a pleased lilt in her tone as she relaxed. “A challenge. Should he win, he will leave innocent and unharmed. Should he lose, he will be considered guilty and his punishment shall be decided with a vote.”

“A challenge?” The sniper ticked her weapon towards Cobb, more a gesture than a threat. “He looks like he might be good in a fight, but he’s not Mandalorian. He does not know our ways. Letting his actions be judged through trial by combat seems…uneven.”

“No,” the Armorer agreed, facing Cobb. He kinda wanted to quake under her covered gaze. “He does not know our ways. So he will have a champion to represent his side of the matter.”

“Who will fight on behalf of an armor thief?” Angry Red growled. 

“Din Djarin, of course,” the Armorer said, turning back to the unarmored man. 

The man nodded at once, not even glancing at Cobb. 

Cobb thought he might have to amend his thoughts on love at first sight. But that didn’t mean he was going to let this random stranger take his place in some kind of fight. 

“I’m gettin’ the feeling I don’t have much say in this,” Cobb brought up carefully, smiling as charmingly as he could given the situation. “However, I’d be remiss in not speaking up for myself.”

Everyone watched him, the Armorer giving off an amused energy that Cobb didn’t find all that reassuring when she prompted, “Go on.” 

The unarmored man’s gaze bore into his. His brow was slightly lowered and his mouth flattened in an unimpressed line. It was an expression that said “Just what in the kriffing hell do you think you’re doing?” loud and clear. Which Cobb could admit was fair, but ultimately uncalled for considering the man didn’t know him. Cobb might’ve been onto something, he didn’t know.

“You’re all understandably upset at my…” Cobb searched his mind for the best word for what he’d done and figured the Armorer hit the nail on the head. “Transgression. And I’m not here to run from what I did or the disrespect I’ve shown your culture, inadvertent though that disrespect may have been. That being said, it’s on me and me alone. I’d like to leave my town and any kind strangers out of it.”

Cobb finished with a polite nod for the unarmored man. 

The man’s brow furrowed even deeper and his eyes narrowed while his neck hunched, a bemused arrangement taking over those ruggedly handsome features. Cobb wasn’t expecting a standing ovation or anything, but he would’ve thought the man would appreciate being pulled out of Cobb’s mess. Some people. 

There was an absolutely amused aura coming off the Armorer now. “An honorable sentiment, Marshal Vanth. But Din Djarin has accepted his role as your representative and he will act as such. Furthermore, I believe this challenge may serve a dual purpose.”

The unarmored man’s confusion changed directions, placed now on the Armorer. 

“Din Djarin admits to breaking the creed and we do not have a clear consensus among us. Some believe his armor is forfeit, others believe his reasons just and the armor still rightfully his. He himself has declared his unworthiness to wear it.”

Cobb blinked. 

So the unarmored man was Mandalorian. Or at least had been at some point? Or it was to be determined?

Well. 

Cobb supposed that was a more important issue than his wearing Mandalorian armor for a couple of years before giving it back. 

“This challenge shall determine the outcomes of both matters,” the Armorer announced. “Should Din Djarin win, he will have exonerated Marshal Vanth of armor theft as well as earned back the right to wear his own armor. Should he lose, Marshal Vanth must face judgement and Din Djarin’s armor will be forfeited to the tribe as he first requested.”

“Come,” she ordered. She stood from the table, grabbed the spear, and threw the cloth and cord wrapped bundle over her back with ease. 

Din, the unarmored man, followed closely behind her with a worried look tossed over his shoulder for Cobb. 

Which was really rather sweet. 

But seemed to Cobb like he was just facing some light punishment - the Armorer had taken death off the table, which left Cobb feeling a good deal less stressed about that aspect of the situation. Din Djarin, and wasn’t that a pretty name to match a pretty face, was about to fight a trial by combat. Mandalorian or no, seemed like Din had the short end of the stick. And didn’t that heap some new stress on Cobb.

\- - -

They navigated through the tunnels with ease, the Armorer obviously knowing her way about the place. Their group collected even more Mandalorians as they wound through the mine, even a large group of children, some in helmets, others not. 

Ignoring the unease at being surrounded by Mandalorians when he couldn’t rightly say if they were friend or foe, Cobb watched Din walk ahead of him, admiring the fit of his practical looking outfit. The low light wasn’t great for admiring, but it was good enough for Cobb to appreciate what he saw. 

He also felt a prickle of familiarity as he considered the man’s build - good shoulders, good arms, nice waist, thighs, just…thighs. Maybe Cobb had a type.

They exited the mine and Cobb squinted against the sunshine, the Mandalorians around him unbothered thanks to their helmets and visors. 

“Draw the arena,” the Armorer commanded, waving down four different Mandos. 

They nodded their agreement and activated their jetpacks. Flying low, they removed some kind of paint from their belts and sprayed out a large perimeter in the sand. 

“Hope Tass doesn’t mix up the explosive and regular paint again,” some Mandalorian chuckled. 

“Might make this even more fun,” another one shrugged. 

Cobb swallowed. 

Din smiled reassuringly at him which left a bit of warmth in Cobb’s chest. It wasn’t a big smile, but a small one that barely lifted his lips. It was a nice smile nonetheless and Cobb wondered at what he’d done to earn it. 

“Din Djarin shall represent himself and Marshal Vanth,” the Armorer spoke loud enough to be heard by all the Mandalorians around them. Which were quite a lot, now that Cobb really thought about it. For a people who were supposedly endangered and more myth than reality, they sure had some numbers. 

Cobb scanned the group, eyes darting around in search of shiny silver. 

Nothing. 

Cobb tried not to be too disappointed by that.

“Who will challenge him to combat?” The Armorer asked. “Step forward now.”

Din looked around, open expression full of calm, composed expectation. 

Nobody seemed willing to step forward which had Cobb’s eyebrow quirking upwards. 

Maybe this Din was a decent fighter. 

“I will,” Angry Red volunteered after a long moment.

Cobb figured that made as much sense as anything. 

“Very well.” The armorer regarded both parties. “Ver Lev, Din Djarin, you will fight until your opponent has been pushed from the boundaries, yields, or is otherwise unable to continue with combat. This is not to the death. Understood?”

The Armorer put the full weight of her attention on Angry Red who shifted guiltily. 

Both Mandalorians nodded. 

The Armorer took the bundle from her back and handed both the bundle and spear to Din. He accepted them with a questioning frown. 

“For the sake of fair combat, you may don your armor.” Din opened his mouth, looking like a man about to protest, but the Armorer cut across, “Without the helmet. That and the continued right to wear the armor you must earn through victory.”

Din nodded again. 

“Prepare yourselves.”

Angry Red walked to a group of similarly painted Mandalorians. They circled up and helped as he checked over his armor and weapons. 

Arms full, Din retreated to a spot at the edge of the now painted arena where no Mandalorians stood. 

Cobb watched him closely, brow furrowing as the man untied the bundle. 

“You may join him in his preparations,” the Armorer told him, something knowing in her voice. “He is, after all, your champion.”

Smiling tightly, Cobb tipped his head and offered a cut off salute before he walked over real slow and careful like. 

“Hey there, pal,” Cobb began, wondering just how you shifted the sand with a stranger willing to engage in combat for your protection. 

Din glanced up, lashes fluttering as he acknowledged Cobb with a bob of his head. He was even prettier in the unrelentingly bright desert light. Cobb kinda more than liked his scruffy beard and mustache too. Din put his focus back on the bundle and unknotted the last cord with practiced, capable hands. He had some callouses on those hands and Cobb found his eyes tracing those worked over fingers. 

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Cobb tried, “I gotta thank you. This is a whole lot of trouble. And I-”

The cloth fell away to reveal a pile of unpainted beskar armor, a shoulder piece adorned with a mudhorn signet right on top. 

“Mando,” Cobb gasped, breath punched out of him. 

Falling to his knees, Cobb grabbed the pauldron and pulled it close to his chest. 

“Where’d you get this armor?” Cobb demanded, voice cracking in his desperation. 

Din smirked over at him, eyebrows rising. He reached for the pile and started strapping on Mando’s armor. Anger on his friend’s behalf filled Cobb’s chest with tight fury. Because they were friends, him and Mando. They absolutely were, no matter how short the acquaintance. They might not’ve been the more Cobb might’ve wanted them to be, but they were still at least friends, dammit. 

“You know,” Din said, voice low but rough edged and painfully familiar despite the lack of a modulator. “Last time we met, I was the one asking that question.”

“Mando,” Cobb gawked, jaw slack. 

Glancing down at the pauldron still clutched to his chest, Cobb felt his neck and ears go hot. He shoved the piece of armor at Din. Mando. Din who was Mando. 

Huffing, Din accepted it with a murmured, “Thank you.”

“You’re-you. I-” Cobb shut his mouth up long enough to think it through. “You’re not wearing your helmet. You broke your creed.”

“Yeah,” Din grunted, tightening a piece of armor at his thigh. How did he not recognize those thighs? 

“Where’s the kid?” Cobb asked next, worry making his heart heavy. 

“He’s safe,” Din assured him, eyes turning liquid as his face pinched with sorrow. 

Safe meant safe, which was a relief, but it didn’t mean with Din. 

“I’m sorry,” Cobb whispered feelingly. A thought struck him. “He why you break your creed?”

Looking up again, Din met his gaze with a surprised one of his own. “I’m why I broke the creed. But in a way, yes.”

“Seems a good reason to me, not that my opinion counts,” Cobb said, an attempt at a comforting smile tugging up one side of his mouth. 

Din’s big sad eyes darted over Cobb’s face. “It counts.”

Cobb’s smile grew even as the realisation of what this all meant dropped on him like a collapsed mine shaft. “You’re fighting for me.”

“Yeah,” Din groaned as he stretched around his own back to reach a strap. Cobb’s brain short circuited for a second. 

He pulled himself together and moved to help Din with the strap. It made the Mando’s eyes go a little wide and startled. Cobb wondered if he never had any help with the armor. Cobb had trouble enough with his borrowed suit and that hadn’t felt as complicated as Din’s. Though that might’ve been because of the pressure of why Din was putting the armor on in the first place. Even easy things seemed tougher when you were facing a difficult sort of situation. 

“Why would you go and do a fool thing like that?” Cobb got around to asking.

Din ducked his head. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Loads of reasons, partner. Loads of ‘em.”

Eyes still downcast, Din shrugged. “You did the right thing, you gave me the armor and the rightful wearer found me. Things worked out. You shouldn’t be punished for something you didn’t know was wrong.”

“I had an inkling,” Cobb admitted with a smirk. 

“Maybe don’t tell them that,” Din muttered back, voice dry. His eyes danced puckishly though and wasn’t that a revelation. 

“Hey,” Cobb said, tongue heavy in his mouth. “Your eyes are brown.”

“What is it with people and brown eyes?” Din asked, shaking his head as he slid on his gloves. 

“Some other people saw those babies, eh?” Cobb sucked on his teeth. “Not gonna lie to you, partner, not when you’re doing this much for me. I’m a shred jealous.”

Din glanced up from his now covered hands, face scrunched. “Jealous of what?”

Oh, sweet baby banthas. The man was going to kill Cobb by looking that cute while saying something that stupid. He just wasn’t playing fair. 

“You’re something else, Din.” Cobb tested the name out loud and found he liked it as much as he did in his head. 

Din mumbled down at his gloves as he flexed his fingers and adjusted their fit. “That so?”

“It is so. You never did introduce yourself, you know,” Cobb mentioned casually as Din completed the armor with his cape and jetpack. 

The helmet remained on the cloth, the only thing left behind. 

“I know,” Din confirmed, lips twitching. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you live for all that tall, dark, mysterious nonsense.” 

And what effective nonsense it was.

Cobb ran a hand through his hair. Din’s hair was curly and brown, not the silvered over dark grey Cobb learned to live with a little too young for his taste. He wasn’t a vain man, didn’t live the kind of life that was conducive to that kind of pride, but going grey in his twenties was a harsh bite of reality to swallow. Din didn’t have that problem but hardly anyone in the galaxy got to know that. Seemed a waste. 

As was hiding all of that everything, but Cobb was focused on the hair at the moment. 

“Would’ve been nice to know Din Djarin meant you before I thought you’d been horribly murdered and had your armor stripped,” Cobb continued, voice catching a little on the real, genuine worry he felt for his Mando. 

Those big brown eyes were full of apology. “Sorry, Marshal. I didn’t think it would ever come up.”

“Marshal?” Cobb put an offended hand to his chest. “What’s this ‘Marshal’ business? It’s Cobb, partner. To you, it’s always Cobb.”

Din quirked a tight lipped smile Cobb’s way, one that was just a shade hesitant. He then pulled out his blaster and started checking it over. He was a practiced hand at it, no doubt about that. 

“Din,” Cobb started, tone more solemn. 

Din paused and met his eyes, features cast in a serious set as soon as he heard Cobb’s tone. 

“I didn’t get very far with this Armorer of yours and I think I know you well enough to say I probably won’t get far with you, but I don’t need you fighting this fight for me,” Cobb told him in a hushed voice. He glanced up, checking to see if anyone was listening. They were stood pretty far off from the other Mandalorians so he didn’t have to worry. “I’m willing to do it myself. Not to brag, but I am rather handy in a brawl.”

Din straightened up and Cobb swallowed. He was fully kitted out now, the Mando Cobb knew minus the helmet. The armor was as shiny as he remembered, the cape a little more damaged, a little more stained. But that was Mando alright, with Din’s deep brown eyes and expressive face and curly brown hair fluttering in the desert breeze. 

“I know you are,” Din told him earnestly. And boy, if that rasp of a voice didn’t send shivers up and down Cobb’s spine. “You could probably even beat him. Ver Lev is a capable Mandalorian, but he’s young, emotional, and lacks real world experience. If it came down to you versus him, I’d take you any day.”

Well, Cobb wouldn’t mind if Din did. 

“But this isn’t about whether or not we think you can fight,” Din continued. “In regular circumstances, we’d probably insist on you fighting your own fight. But this is more complicated than that.”

Cobb sighed and decided he might as well drop it. He then brought up, “The Armorer said you can’t wear your helmet. Ain’t that a tad unfair?” 

Din shrugged and Cobb’s eyes skipped over the movement of his shoulders. “I’ve lost the right to wear it. She wants me to earn it back. If I can’t fight without the helmet, I don’t deserve to have it.”

This Mandalorian was going to be the death of Cobb alright, looking all honorable and modest. 

Din stepped back and swung his spear, like he was testing its weight and balance despite how familiar the movement seemed.

“That’s new,” Cobb commented lightly. “You pick that up after we met?”

“I did,” Din confirmed, planting the spear at his side. “Fought with a Jedi to free a town and ended up with this.”

“A Jedi?” Cobb balked. “With those mind tricks and laser swords, like Luke Skywalker?”

Din looked at him, blank in the face. 

“Came planet side a few years back? Supposed to be from here originally? Was with Leia Organa?”

Din kept staring at him, not a lick of recognition in those deep brown eyes.

“The rebel princess who killed Jabba the Hutt?” Cobb clarified, brow twisted in confusion. It was a big deal. Everyone on Tatooine knew about it.

“Oh, Huttslayer,” Din hummed, eyes widening and expression lightening, an ever so slight curve to his lips. “I’ve heard of her. I didn’t realize she was a princess too.”

“Heard of ‘Huttslayer’ but don’t know she’s a rebel princess,” Cobb mumbled incredulously. He pointed right at Din’s armored chest. “I know I’m from a tiny town in the middle of nowhere that ain’t on a single modern map and I like it that way, but you gotta get out more, Mando.”

“I’ve been out,” Din shot back casually as he tapped at the controls on his wrist, squinting at whatever he saw there. “Only ever caused me problems.”

“Oh, I’m so sure your home life has always been real peaceful,” Cobb sassed, tipping his head towards the gathered Mandalorians. They seemed restless, the volume of their conversation rising. Angry Red (Cobb wasn’t going to call him Ver Lev, it was the principle of the thing) and his friends seemed to be close to done, if the way they were polishing up his armor in a finishing touch was any indication. 

“No place like it,” Din sighed before spinning his spear in a fancy flourish and settling it at his back.

He bent down to pick up his helmet. Hands holding the helmet like it was something delicate, Din turned it over until he was facing his own visor. There was a long moment where Cobb felt like an interloper seeing something not meant for his eyes, but then Din met Cobb’s gaze, expression thoughtful and intense. 

Din pressed the helmet into Cobb’s arms. “Hold this for me.”

Cobb sputtered, but Din simply turned around and strut forward. 

Angry Red did the same. 

They stopped in sync, the two of them standing on opposite sides within the arena, still a good deal of distance away from each other. 

Cobb’s eyebrows shot up and his arms tightened around Din’s helmet. The gathered Mandalorians fell silent, visors turned attentively towards the two men and an air of excited expectation crackling around them. 

Feet held shoulder length apart and arms crossed, the Armorer called out, “Din Djarin, Ver Lev, begin combat.” 

They ran at each other, both going for offense right at the start, and Cobb wondered if all Mandalorian challenges started out this fast. No posturing, no hand shake, no how d’you do. Just straight up running at each other in a clash of armor. 

They went hand to hand, not bothering with weapons, and Din laid out a volley of strikes and hits that almost had Cobb sympathizing with Angry Red. Almost. Maybe. Ok…not even close. The bastard was getting what he deserved as far as Cobb was concerned.

Punch to the helmet, elbow to the neck, punch to the unarmored part of one shoulder, jab to the unarmored part of the other shoulder. 

Angry Red aimed for Din’s unprotected face, but Din caught his wrist and locked his arm in a hold. Clenching his free hand in a fist, Din punched one, two, three times at Angry Red’s side before the other Mandalorian broke free and delivered a few punches himself. Din blocked around half the hits, coming in under Angry Red’s guard to stomp at his instep and land a couple more punches to the gaps in his armor.

Some of the spectators cheered and shouted out encouragement, others heckled.

Angry Red stepped back, stumbling a little and putting more space between the two of them before he threw his arm out and released his whipcord. Din spun out of the way, but it still managed to wrap around his arm. Angry Red activated his jetpack a beat later. 

Cobb’s heart jumped in his throat and his fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against beskar as Din was dragged upward, body whipped into the air when the cord snapped taut. 

Din activated his own jetpack and came level with his opponent, using the whipcord to pull Angry Red in close mid air. 

Cobb’s mouth parted in awe as Din wrapped himself around Angry Red, legs clamped over his midsection, and elbowed him repeatedly over the helmet and shoulders. 

The Mandalorians on the ground jeered and cheered, shouting in a variety of languages, only a few of which Cobb recognized. 

Angry Red faltered and they plummeted to the ground, Din deactivating his jetpack a little prematurely in Cobb’s opinion. They hit the ground hard and rolled, tumbling in a ground fight. 

Angry Red managed to get a knee under Din’s chest, then a leg, and next thing Cobb knew, Angry Red was kicking Din off. Din stumbled to his feet and regained his balance. 

Angry Red pulled out two blasters and shot with both hands as Din’s arm came up to protect his uncovered head. Cobb personally thought Angry Red was pushing the limits of the ‘not to the death’ rule here. A blaster to the head was deadly last Cobb checked. 

Grimacing, Din kept his face shielded and ran at Angry Red, free hand reaching for his back as he sprinted forward. 

Din’s beskar spear cut through the air with a blinding glint as he brought it down on Angry Red’s arms, knocking first one blaster out of his hand, then another. 

In the middle of the audience of Mandalorians, Angry Red’s guys started looking more and more agitated.

Angry Red pulled a long knife out, blade as big as Cobb’s forearm, and lashed out in serpentine movements. Din blocked each slash and stab with his spear, the long reach of the weapon keeping Angry Red back. It was clearly frustrating the other Mandalorian, Angry Red’s movements getting wilder as the fight dragged on. 

He was spitting mad, that Cobb could tell, and he was sick of Din keeping up with him. 

Yelling through his helmet, Angry Red rushed Din, long knife poised to strike. 

Din caught the knife wielding arm and pulled, using Angry Red’s own momentum against him. Slamming Angry Red to the ground, Din locked his arm again and disarmed him, throwing the knife out towards where the two blasters lay abandoned. Din then twisted his arm far enough that Cobb felt his own limbs growing sore and pulled out a vibroblade. He pressed it to the unarmored spot under Angry Red’s arm, pushing closer when Angry Red tried to shake himself loose.

Angry Red grit out, “I yield.”

Din immediately stepped away and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, features drooping in exhaustion. He was breathing a little heavier, but otherwise seemed pretty composed. 

Hell, Cobb was sweating and breathing a little heavier just from watching him, but that was neither here nor there. 

“Ver Lev yields,” the Armorer announced, voice clear. “Din Djarin is our victor. The Marshal is free from punishment and Din Djarin once more has the right to his armor.”

Helmet held to his stomach, Cobb beamed.

The Mandalorians made a ruckus, arms and weapons raised, cheers and chants ringing around them. Angry Red’s squad helped him to his feet and clapped him on the back. They didn’t seem all that pitying or even disappointed. For a group who seemed pretty split over everything, the Mandalorians came across united enough post fight and not all that resentful of the outcome. 

Din strode towards the Armorer and Cobb made to meet him there, watching him carefully. Din walked a little more gingerly and he winced as he rotated one of his shoulders and pressed a hand to the joint.

The other Mandalorians dispersed, most of them headed back to the once abandoned mine. Cobb did notice the sniper disappearing into the rocks and the blue painted guard standing just at the edge of the entrance, no doubt back to their turns at watch. 

“Marshal Vanth,” the Armorer addressed as Cobb and Din came within easier distance. “You came to speak with us. What would you like to discuss?”

Cobb laughed, a hysterical bark of a thing. “You know, ma’am, I just came here because some Tuskens spotted a few of your folks and I wanted to make sure there wasn’t any trouble coming for my town. I didn’t quite expect this.”

“No, I suppose you would not,” she acknowledged, tipping her head. “However, you have been absolved of the crime of armor theft and I can assure you we mean no harm to you or your town.”

“Well, nice to have all that settled then,” Cobb admitted earnestly, one hand on his hip, the other still holding Din’s helmet.

“If any conflict arises, I will take swift action to rectify the situation,” the Armorer added, a preemptive threat in her tone. Cobb got the impression that she was a Mandalorian of her word and found her assurances both comforting and utterly terrifying. She turned her visor towards Din. “Congratulations on your victory.”

“Thank you.” Din dipped his head. 

“Now that your identity as a Mandalorian has been settled,” she said pointedly. “Perhaps we may finally make progress with your role as Mand’alor.”

She tilted her head, visor directed somewhere at Din’s belt. 

Cobb followed what he assumed was her eye line towards something clipped to the belt. Whatever it was swung innocuously at Din’s side, partially covered by his cape. 

Din grimaced, shoulders hunching up in discomfort. 

Cobb frowned at him in concern, sure he was missing out on something. 

The Armorer confidently asserted, “This is the way.”

She turned and walked off, strides full of purpose. 

Whistling long and low, Cobb watched her disappear into the mine. “When I said I was sure you called the shots where you came from, I was dead wrong, wasn’t I?”

“Absolutely,” Din confirmed at once, gracing Cobb with a self-deprecating, lopsided smile. 

Cobb stared, admiring Din’s scruffy face and sweat plastered curls. His hair was already starting to dry in the Tatooine heat and Cobb liked the way it made his hair a little curlier, a little fluffier, a little frizzier. 

“Are you alright?” Din asked, brow furrowed and eyes assessing. “Your face is red.”

Cobb coughed and looked away. “It’s the heat, Mando, I’m sure you know that.”

Din narrowed his eyes, suspicious, but he let it go. “Mind if I get that back?”

He held his hand out for the helmet and Cobb leveled a considering look at the beskar under his arm. 

“What’s gonna happen here?” Cobb asked, suddenly hesitant to hand it over. It was rude, he knew he was being rude, but Din was looking at him and entertaining his rudeness so Cobb felt he might as well push it while he was still allowed. “You take the helmet, put it back on, never take it off around other people again?”

Din’s lips thinned, but he seemed more confused than angry. “This is the way.”

“Huh.” Cobb chewed on the inside of his cheek and glanced at Din and his handsome face. “I wanna do something while we’re still face to face first.”

“Sure,” Din agreed immediately, trusting Cobb in that unexpected way that won Cobb over all that time ago. It still felt like a punch to the gut in the best possible sense. 

“Alright then,” Cobb breathed, nodding sharply. 

Cobb stepped in close and pressed his lips to Din’s. 

Din made a surprised noise that rumbled in the back of his throat, but then he leaned in and kissed back, all soft lips and scratchy mustache. 

Cobb relished it, savored it, and when he pulled away it was with a reluctant and aching slowness.

Heat pooled in his stomach and gratification warmed his chest when Din chased his lips, prolonging the kiss for a sweet moment more before they broke apart.

“Um,” Din said, eyes wide and taken aback as he rocked back on the balls of his feet. 

Cobb smirked at him. 

Din opened his mouth, didn’t manage to form any words, and then he snatched the helmet from Cobb’s hold and shoved it back on his head. 

A bit of Cobb was disappointed to lose sight of Din’s face. The rest of him was endlessly endeared and charmed right down to the soles of his worn boots at the bashful panic he saw right before shiny beskar and a tinted visor blocked Din’s features from view. 

Cobb’s smirk turned into a big bright grin that felt lovestruck as all get-out. “I woulda regretted not getting one of those in before the helmet went back on.”

Moving awkwardly, Din nodded and cleared his throat, but didn’t say anything else. 

“So,” Cobb said, searching for an appropriate follow up for the kiss. “There aren’t any exceptions with the helmet?”

“…not really.”

Cobb perked up at that. “‘Not really’ ain’t a no. Which means there is a little something.”

Down by his sides, Din’s gloved fingers flexed. “It’s allowed under certain circumstances with…certain people.”

“What kinds of people?” Cobb asked, selfishly hoping he was leading Din to the answer he wanted most. 

“Clan. Children and spouses.” Din looked to the side. “Mainly.”

“Mandalorians get married?” 

Din nodded.

“They ever marry outsiders?” Cobb’s heart felt like it was going to beat through his bones. 

Din murmured, “Sometimes.”

“What’s that take then, catching the eye of a Mandalorian for good?” Cobb’s mouth was dry, but luckily for him it kept running. 

“…that would depend on the Mandalorian.” There was a wavering quality to Din’s voice, even with the helmet’s modulator altering it some. “And it could take time for the outsider to be considered clan.”

That thread of hesitance, hope, and cautious vulnerability gave Cobb the extra bit of courage he needed.

“Funny thing is,” Cobb hummed, taking a half step towards the man, putting them almost as close as they’d been for the kiss, “I’m a very patient man.”

Cobb lined himself up so he was angled in towards Din, their arms brushing. Din edged into the contact and Cobb near jumped for joy. 

“You got plans later?” Cobb asked, voice pitched low. 

“No,” Din admitted. 

Reaching out with a tentative hand, Cobb caught the edge of Din’s cape with his fingers and tugged lightly. “Well, how about I take you around Mos Pelgo then? Show you the sights.”

Din allowed Cobb’s hold to guide him a smidge closer, making the marshal just a little on the breathless side. “Mos Pelgo has sights?”

Huffing a laugh, Cobb admitted, “Not many unless you like sand, that I’ll give you. But the company ain’t bad.”

After a long moment of Cobb sweating out his anxiety, Din finally said, “Ok.” 

“You’re sure?” Cobb asked, not wanting to make the man feel pressured to come even if he desperately wanted him to come. 

In more ways than one, but Cobb wasn’t in any sort of hurry. He’d be more than willing to take his time with Din. Also in more ways than one.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Din answered. “But my new ship’s being repaired in Mos Eisley and my borrowed speeder isn’t exactly running right now.”

“That’s an easy fix.” Cobb winked, “You can sit behind me on my racer.”

Din’s limbs loosened, body losing that slant of nervous tension, and Cobb got the distinct feeling he was rolling his eyes under the helmet. 

“Come on,” Cobb urged, tugging on his cape one last time before releasing it and swaggering off. “Let me show you a good time.”

“Last good time you showed me ended with my being eaten by a krayt dragon,” Din said dryly, following close enough their hands brushed. 

Cobb straddled his racer and Din climbed on behind him, arms coming around Cobb’s waist. 

Squirming where he sat, Cobb aimed for nonchalant, “I’m trying to impress a Mandalorian here, Din. Gotta go big and ain’t much bigger than a krayt dragon.”

“You don’t need to try that hard,” Din muttered, voice so low Cobb barely caught the words. 

Grinning out at the horizon where washed out blue sky met heat smudged beige desert, Cobb started his racer and sped off, thoroughly enjoying the feel of Din’s arms tightening around him. 

\- - -

Mos Pelgo welcomed Din back with a quiet night of townfolk happy to see their savior back and in one piece. He politely declined drinks and food at the cantina while he stumbled over small talk with the locals. Some time after the suns set, Cobb called it a day for the both of them, giving Din the privacy to eat in Cobb’s own kitchen where there wouldn’t be anyone to see him remove the helmet. 

Fed, watered, and ready for rest, the two of them lounged in a couple of weathered chairs at the back of Cobb’s home and looked up at the stars that twinkled down on them. 

During a lull in their soft conversation, one that was full of companionable silence, Din stretched with a groan that had Cobb’s head lolling. 

“Keep making noises like that and you’re gonna make a man wish he was a bit less patient,” Cobb sighed dreamily, blatantly admiring the long, lean lines of Din’s armored body. 

Din froze when he caught Cobb’s meaning. 

He was quiet long enough that Cobb started to regret his misstep. Din stood up and Cobb sat straight, eyes darting over Din as he worried over if he’d offended the Mandalorian bad enough to make him leave. 

“The helmet has to stay on,” Din explained, heading towards the door. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t be creative.”

Cobb leapt to his feet and chased after him, eagerness causing him to stumble. 

Orange fingered gloves tangled in the fabric of Cobb’s shirt, setting him right and dragging him in close the second they were inside his house. 

Seemed as if Din was going to be the one showing him the good time. 

Cobb wasn’t complaining. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Cobb: Darlin’ you be honest with me here. Are you the lord of Mandalore?  
> Din: Unfortunately and against my will, yes.  
> Cobb: Any reason why you never mentioned this before?  
> Din: Honestly, I hoped that if I ignored it, it would go away.  
> Cobb: How’d that work out?  
> Din: Pretty bad.


End file.
